


Frosted Glass

by Amortentia_Zarry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Death, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Medium Harry, Multi, Painter Harry, Slow Burn, Snow, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 18:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14795543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amortentia_Zarry/pseuds/Amortentia_Zarry
Summary: Harry looks out of the window and he cannot see past the frosted glass.But he is there.Pressed up against him and still searching for the sun.





	Frosted Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta’d as are all of my works unfortunately.
> 
> Trying my luck at writing something a bit longer. I do not own Harry Potter or any of the the characters in it. They belong to J. K. Rowling and Warner bros. This is purely a work of fiction.

The rain slices through the air in sheets of tears. 

Ron is crumpled up beside the sleek black coffin, clutching it like a lifeline. His sobs echo across the cemetery. All Harry feels is a chilling numbness settling in the marrow of his bones. 

He’s here.

Right at the back in an expensive-looking ebony cloak, pale face shaded by the hood that Harry knows is there not to draw attention to himself. It works for the most part, everyone too consumed in a grief so dark and black that it’s become hard to see anything else beyond it. But Harry does. 

He notices him. He /knows/ him, knows the long jumble of limbs that seem to fit perfectly in places they probably shouldn’t and knows the elegant slope of his nose and arch of his back and sweeping curve of his cherry-blossom lips. And from the corner of his hood, he sees the tell-tale peak of white-blond hair. 

It’s him. 

Of course it is. Harry finds himself almost taken aback by his presence even though a part of him must have known that he would be here because for the past year, all Hermione had been able to speak about, had been him. It’s seems almost like a faraway memory now. Her voice ringing out in his head like a wind chime. 

Harry takes note of the way his posture is still impeccable even in this moment of agony, and how his hands link together behind his back and Harry somehow knows that his knuckles are probably white from how hard he is trying to keep himself from breaking down. He knows, because he is on the verge of breaking down too.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he is walking towards him, legs moving all on their own and for some reason- maybe a part of him that knows that Hermione would want this- Harry doesn’t stop them. 

And then he is standing in front of Draco Malfoy. 

Draco looks up at him through ivory lashes and glassy grey eyes that remind Harry of wet pavement and foggy mornings and winter. And he can tell that he’s expecting him to make a scene or throw him out or do something that will somehow confirm that he is not supposed to be here, not allowed to grieve her.

Instead he simply goes to stand beside him. No one notices his absence and maybe that’s for the best. 

It’s silent between them, but when he chances a brief glance in Draco’s direction, the blond is already looking at him.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment (especially), bookmark, give kudos if you like it or want me to continue. Next chapter should be longer.


End file.
